


Bad Day

by CalamityJess



Series: Amelie Rose Trevelyan [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityJess/pseuds/CalamityJess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen takes care of his Inquisitor after a bad day. Prompt from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Day

Stomping through the muck in the Fallow Mire had been bad enough. Add to that battling an overinflated Avvar to retrieve her soldiers, and the long trek back to Skyhold caked in mud and that smell…(Maker, what was that?) clinging to everything and everyone did not make for an altogether pleasant Inquisitor. The message from Josephine informing her that Blackwall had arrived at Skyhold for judgement further added to the day’s transgressions against her.

All Amelie wanted to do when she finally got to the keep was take a nice hot bath, burn her clothing, and maybe have some warm spiced wine. So focused was she on these pleasantries that she even skipped her normal trip to Cullen’s office. She couldn’t subject him to the stench to be honest.

 It was her focus, and assumption that she knew her castle well enough to walk through it blindfolded, that was her, quite literal, downfall. She hadn’t made it ten feet past the doors before she fell flat on her face.

 A guard was quick to help her up, and she looked for the offending impediment as she thanked him. Who in Andraste’s name had put that bench there? It was then that she noticed movers shuffling about, removing her furniture, rearranging things left and right. That was her favorite painting where were they taking it? She approached the nearest one and inquired as to who ordered such a thing, assuming the answer would be Lady Josephine.

“Madame de Fer requested our service mi’lady,” the young man answered.

Amelie stood there for a moment, stunned that the woman would have such gall as to presume that this would be acceptable.

“I want everything put back where it was taken from immediately, Madame de Fer has no authority here in such matters,” Amelie said, forcing if not pleasantness into her voice, then at least a professionalism.

“I’m sorry, Lady Inquisitor, ma’am, but Madame de Fer said…” the nervous worker began.

“I don’t  _care_ what Madame de Fer said. This is my keep, my Inquisition, and I make the rules!” Amelie ground out.

“My dear Inquisitor, do we have a problem in here?” The Iron Lady herself cooed from the rotunda doorway.

That tone grated on Amelie’s last fraying nerve.

“Vivienne, why are there movers rearranging my furniture?” Amelie asked, feigning sweetness.

“I’m sure I don’t know, my dear,” Vivienne said, sniffing the air and making a most disgusted face. “Perhaps it was full of fleas and lice,” she sneered.

The hall fell silent, for once the nobles had all shut their mouths to listen. An audible gasp followed Vivienne’s words. Amelie clenched her fists at her sides with enough force to dig her nails into the skin of her palms.

“If you have something to say to me, Vivienne, then say it.  Enough with your childish games,” Amelie said, inching closer to her fellow mage.

“Oh yes, you are certainly the epitome of mature choices aren’t you, my dear? Tell me, how  _is_ the Commander anyhow? I heard there was quite the  _spat_ at the Winter Palace,” Vivienne said.

Josephine had poked her head out of her door when she heard the crowd give a collecting “ohhh”.

“Oh dear,” she muttered grabbing a messenger, “Go get the Commander and the Seeker,  _hurry_ !”

* * *

 

Cullen was just finishing his last report for the day when the runner ran through his door.

 “Commander,” she huffed, “The Inquisitor...Vivienne…,” she stopped, gasping for air.

“Slow down, what is going on? Is she ok?” Cullen asked.

“They are arguing in the throne room Ser.  Lady Montilyet said to fetch you ‘before they kill each other’...those were her words,” the runner finished.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen gasped heading that way. “Get Cassandra!” he threw over his shoulder.

“Already done, ser!” the messenger replied to his retreating back.

Cullen arrived at the door at the same time as Cassandra. They entered together.

“If you want to start a fight, Vivienne, then by all means… _bring it on_ ,” Amelie was saying with a cold edge to her voice that set the hair on the back of Cullen’s neck on end.

From his position behind the Inquisitor he could see the sparks of electricity forming between clenched fingers. He could see Cassandra making her way to a position near Vivienne, ready to step in, they had to act quickly. He certainly did not miss this aspect of his old job.

“Enchanter Vivienne, Inquisitor…Stand down,  _now!_ ” Cullen ordered. Maker he was going to pay for that he feared.

Cassandra acted quickly, as Cullen spoke she drained the mana of both mages. He watched the gathering storm at Amelie’s fingers fizzle and fade.

“Of  _course_ , Commander.  I defer to your judgment,” Vivienne crooned.  “I was getting bored anyway. I shall retire to my quarters,” she said and sashayed out of the room.

“Vivienne,” Josephine called out, “I would  _appreciate_ it if you would return Skyhold’s decor to its previous state,” Josephine suggested. Strongly.

“It shall be done darling, as you asked so  _kindly_ ,” Vivienne replied gracefully.

Amelie was left standing there, feeling very much like an idiot.

“Kiss ass,” she muttered as she marched to her quarters.

As she reached the stairwell she kicked off her boots. Her armor followed, dropped at the first landing. By the time she reached her quarters proper, she was left only with her tunic and pants which she quickly stripped out of and threw in the fireplace. She was pacing the floor in only her infamous colorful smalls when she heard Cullen’s steps approaching.

“Oh...pardon me, I’ll just come back…,” he began upon seeing her state of undress.

“Andraste’s ass, Cullen, you’ve seen me in this state so many times by now, one would think you’d be bored with the sight,” she retorted.

“I was trying to be a gentleman,” he chuckled.

“Well you might want to keep your distance until I get this stench washed off,” she grumbled, stepping out her her smalls and into the bath that was waiting, and thanks to Dagna’s ingenuity, still warm.

She let herself immerse completely in the water for a moment before returning to an upright position, head resting against the edge. She reached for her shampoo only to find it missing.

“Looking for this?” Cullen asked from behind her.  “Allow me,” he said as he applied the sunflower scented soap to her scalp and began to rub it in with his fingertips.

“Maker, where did you learn to do that?” Amelie asked with a contented sigh.

“I’m not giving up all of my secrets so easily,” he sassed.  “So, do you want to talk?” he asked.

“I suppose I do owe you an explanation, but...it would take so long and you have better things to do than listen to me whine,” she answered.

“Nothing more important than taking care of you,” he murmured in her ear, “now talk.”

“All I wanted was to get some peace and quiet, and clean before I have to judge Blackwall in the morning. But I came in and Vivienne was having my furnishings replaced and everything rearranged, and I fell on my face in front of the entire throne room and...and now my nose hurts on top of everything else,” Amelie replied, splashing water as she talked with her hands.

Cullen came around the side of the tub, and kissed her nose.

“Feel better?” he asked with that smirk of his.

“Mmm a little,” she answered, “Hey where are you going?” she asked as he got up and moved out of view.

Her question was answered when he returned holding out the fluffiest towel she had ever seen. She stood and let him wrap her within it, delivering another kiss on her wounded nose.

“How about now?” he asked.

“Definite improvement,” she smiled.

“Good.  Now you stay here and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

For once Amelie wasn’t about to argue. She took a seat on the couch near the fire and worked her fingers through the mass of curls on her head. It wasn’t long before she heard his footfalls approaching again, and the most delicious smells tempted her nose. When Cullen came into her view he was carrying a tray with her favorite foods, and an entire pitcher of warm spiced wine.

“How did you get the cooks to do all of this...and when...how did you know?” She asked as she grinned at the fare.

There was Nug-Nug expertly crafted to perfection. Not truly a nug mind you, just put together to resemble one, with a pile of rice and expertly placed vegetables and skewered meat, and a bowl of freshly prepared Nordbotten fruit stew for dessert.

“Harding sent word you were returning.  She might have mentioned how miserable it was out there. And I was, of course, present when Blackwall arrived,” he answered.

They ate in companionable silence. Amelie was famished and it showed.

“I should go talk to him, Blackwall..Ranier...and there are probably reports and…,” she fretted.

“As your Commander, I order you to stay put and relax.  For once, let someone take care of you,” Cullen said, playing with the curls around her face. “Besides,” he added, “you can’t go anywhere with spiced cream on your face.”  He then set about kissing each drop of it off.

“I should at least put something on besides this towel,” she said.

“Not quite yet,” he chuckled lifting her in his arms and carrying her to her bed.

“And just what are your intentions, my Commander?” she teased.

“You’ll see, just roll over on your stomach,” he suggested.

Amelie did as he asked, wondering what he was up to. Then she felt his hands kneading her muscles slowly and firmly from the small of her back, upwards in slow soothing circles on each side of her spine, and all the way up to her shoulders and neck. She closed her eyes and groaned in appreciation. Maker, what else was this man hiding she wondered. By the time he was done, she was completely relaxed, and nearly asleep. She felt him pull her blanket over her, and felt the bed shift as he stood.

“Cullen?” she murmured. “Please stay?”

“As my Inquisitor Commands,” he replied.

 


End file.
